


Whispers

by Kreyana



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: April 2006, Kairi isn’t a popular character here, M/M, Mystery, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Secrets, Sora is a sultry minx, Supernatural - Freeform, a lot has changed, almost forgot the Kairi bashing, college fic, more to be added - Freeform, nearly a complete rewrite, revision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kreyana/pseuds/Kreyana
Summary: Frightening stories are a favored past-time, but most who enjoy them don’t know real fear. They don’t know the kind of petrifying fear of realization, of knowing that a killer is right on their heels and fostering the intent to destroy their everything. They don’t know of real ‘monsters’, or that monsters are real…Riku has been running for most of his life. He’s never been able to truly make a new home, or find friends or lovers. If he stops for too long, his past inevitably catches up.Just when Riku thinks that maybe it’s okay to take a chance, to stop for more than a year or two—to just catch his damnbreath—he finds that this time really is no different…Or maybe it is?Well, the little spitfire brunette he’s grown rather fond of just might be able to finally save him from this endless cycle—even if putting Sora in any danger is thelastthing Riku wants.





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> This initial idea came to me while reading Uzumaki-sama’s _Goodnight Moon_ , and the additional plot bunnies that followed were the cause of Dark Ki’s companion fics _Turnabout_ , _Bittersweet_ and _Shattenjager_. Each of these stories are very good, and their sequel, a joint fic called _Stalking Moonlight_ , is just as great—so I recommend them to anyone and everyone! 
> 
> Now, another important note would be to say that I started this fic a very long time ago. Over a decade ago (god damn, seriously?), this story known as _Whispers_ was born. Now, eleven years later, it is once again receiving love and attention. 
> 
> As of May of this year, I have decided to revise and continue this story. These new chapters will definitely be posted here on AO3, perhaps even exclusively. I have yet to decide if I will post them to FF.N again. I’ve mostly drifted away from that site.
> 
> However, as my readers from there (and the little here) would know, I have not posted anything in quite a number of years. Worry not, I am not rusty! I have an unbelievable amount of works—original and not—that have been murdering me over the last… decade… plus… >_>; But even though I am currently schooling my way toward an RN degree, I very much still love to write. Especially about our favorite boys… and I’m getting new obsessions as time passes. (Like MikaYuu from Owari no Seraph…)
> 
> No promises on anything new!
> 
> (It’s very likely, though.)
> 
> I’ve decided to do something a little different from the original, so the prologue will be posted independently of the first chapter. That will take a bit longer to get out, because unlike this stuff, I’m re-writing it.
> 
> I’d love to hear thoughts on this little glimpse into the greater story!
> 
> Finally, I'd like to **dedicate** this revision to the readers whom loved it on FF.N— _AbnormallyWeirdPerson, SoulSociety, Skittle1245, Evil Pajamas, DancingMistress, NiveousLilt,_ and _Staryday_ —and to **Violey_Viridian** , who also got the ball rolling again simply by chatting with me! :)

  
\---- V ----  
**(** - _Prologue_ - **)**  


  


Fairy tales. Urban legends. Myths… 

Tales of the supernatural and psychotic serial killers are all things to mesmerize and terrorize. They’re just stories for entertainment—for the pleasure of fear. Ever heard an urban legend? Sat around a campfire, or in a dark room passing around a flashlight and telling old, frightening tales of men with hook or claw or scissor hands… 

Or of ghosts that stalk and possess their victims—that murder in the night. Of werewolves tearing men and women and children to shreds in dark forests or even their own beds. Of a name spoken twelve times past the stroke of midnight to a mirror in a darkened room, calling forth the image of a young, disfigured woman staring back with a deadly black gaze. 

Myths of vampires that transformed into bats and seduced their ways into homes—drain the life from a vein in mortals' necks.

There are so many stories that provide humans this entertainment, stories for those naive enough to enjoy a ‘good fright.’

Frightening stories are a favored past-time of people who don’t know real fear. They don’t know the kind of petrifying fear of realization, of knowing that a killer is right on their heels, intent on destroying their lives, their very selves. They don’t know of real ‘monsters’, or even that these monsters _are_ real…

They don't know what it's like to stare into the face of a serial killer; to stand toe to toe with a vampire.

They don't know that real fear is experienced with the realization of just what it is you’re looking at—that the man watching you with a deviant smirk and a predator’s gaze…

… is the kind of monster he pretends not to be.

  
\---- / ----  
**(** - _1598 // London_ - **)**  


  
He could feel eyes staring at him. 

People looking at him wasn’t unusual. He was beautiful—they liked to tell him so, often enough. It wasn’t a problem. The tavern master liked it, in fact. Brought him customers, he said. Some of the more drunken patrons got a bit more grabby-handed, though, and that was a bit more bothersome. He didn’t like it. 

It had taken convincing to get the tavern master to agree with him that he shouldn’t be whored out, like the girls were. He wasn’t one of the girls, and he wouldn’t be treated like one if the master wanted to keep his influx of patronage. The master had started subtly directing a girl to any of the grabby-hands.

Now people just looked, so he was really more used to it. He even boosted his sales a bit by chatting up the patrons when he served their meals, took their orders. He might flirt back, if it weren’t more likely to get him in trouble. Some patrons were harmless flirts. Some weren’t.

Some patrons bothered him. 

The eyes watching his every move were the bothersome kind. Made his skin crawl. He just had to stifle the urge to shudder, keep his hairs from standing on end. One of the nicer flirty-patrons helped with that second problem.

It was like they could tell that patron made him uncomfortable. Maybe they felt responsible. They were the companion of that patron, after all.

He smiled to his kindly flirt, admiring the uniquely gemstone shade of his eyes as he set two pints on the table. He tried not to look the other one in the eye. That one had uniquely gemstone eyes, too, but they weren’t beautiful. They were gold, like a demon. And the look in them, the one time he’d dared to see… 

He didn’t like that look at all.

“I hope I don’t offend you,” his kindly flirt said, startling him into blinking up at the other man. “But you look really young. A little too young to be working in a tavern like this, no?”

He smiled, lightly chuckling. “I could say the same for you, couldn’t I?” He was pleased at the light, complemented flush from his kindly flirt. “I’m seventeen, though. Perfectly fine!”

His kindly flirt tilted their head slightly to the side. “I imagine you might have trouble with some of the patrons here, right?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he reassured. Another patron called for him from across the room and he waved back. “If there’s anything else you need, just call for me.”

His steps away from them might have been a bit too quick.

“You know,” he heard his kindly flirt murmur to the other patron as he went. “You’ll never find any _friends_ that way.”

 

The next time he felt that unnerving, demonic gaze, his kindly flirt wasn’t there to save him…

  
*  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer** : This humble author holds no ownership of any fanworks she provides to the community (the internet) as a whole


End file.
